Thanks for your comments, everyone. And no, don't even ask, there is no third chapter. Have a great Christmas.

P.S. 99anon99 - which story isn't finished?

Next morning

Tommy stood by his kitchen window looking out at the day. It was cold and looked like it might rain. He flicked on the kettle, then used his index fingers to pull the crusty sleep from the corners of his eyes.

"Good morning." Barbara sounded chipper. Too chipper. "Mmmm, coffee. Who's a clever DI?"

"I know you too well. Sleep okay?" he asked.

"Better than you, by the looks of it. That bed is soooo comfortable. I might have to come back late one night and steal it."

He laughed. "Sure. Go for it. You might need an army to help carry it away."

She frowned. "Yeah. Ah, well."

"You know you can stay here whenever you want."

"I might take you up on that. I don't suppose you have a marble?"

"A marble what? The bathrooms are marble."

She smiled at him the way a parent does a child saying something ridiculous but oddly logical. "I don't think I should take a chip off the tiles. I meant a marble marble."

He tilted his head. "A marble marble? No, I don't think I have any marble marbles, and I'm pretty sure you have lost all your marbles."

She flicked her thumb at him repeatedly in a gesture he knew was supposed to enlighten him. It didn't. "Grr," she said, "didn't you play marbles as a kid? I supposed you used gold nuggets."

"Ah, a marble. Why didn't you say? Are you challenging me to a match? Is this some weird Havers tradition? Playing marbles while the pudding boils."

"No, silly. You put a marble in the pot, and it rattles in the water. If it stops rattling, the water has boiled off. That's bad."

"Can't you just add water?"

She screwed up her face. He was that child again. "Yes... you do add water."

"I meant regularly, so it doesn't boil dry."

"You could, but I forget, so the marble is easier."

"But I wouldn't..." No, this was her tradition. "Wait here."

Tommy went to his study and pulled an old tin from the top shelf. He thumbed under his collection of old football cards and found it. He returned to the kitchen holding up his prize. "Ta da, my prize shooter."

Barbara brushed his fingers as she took it from him. "Excellent."

"Yes, it was." She looked up and smiled coyly. "I... I was the champion of Nanrunnel."

She gave him that parental smile again. "But you were the Lord's son, they let you win."

"I don't think so."

"Really? No, I'm sure you're right. You were the best marble player in Cornwall."

"Hmmph. Anyway, you have your marble. I'm going for a shower unless you need any help yet."

"Nah, Ill have my coffee and wait for you."

Making the pudding was a messy affair. Barbara insisted on doing it the old-fashioned way, creaming the butter and sugar by hand using a wooden spoon that was worn down on one edge to a furry point.

"I have other wooden spoons."

"It wouldn't be the same."

He sat on the kitchen stool and watched in amusement as she then used her hand to mix in each of the eggs, taking care to blend it well so that it didn't curdle. Then the fruit and the flour were added in small doses. The mix was thicker and harder to mix. A lock of her hair kept falling over her eye and she blew it up. "Damned thing. It's like your hair."

"What's wrong with my hair?"

"Nothing. But you do know you have a lock that keeps falling over your eye. You're forever sweeping it back."

"Am I?" He frowned as he pondered. "Yes, perhaps I do. Perhaps I should get a haircut for the new year. Short back and sides and just an inch on top."

"No." A splotch of batter landed on his shirt as her hands flew up. Her voice was only a few decibels below a shout. "You can't do that to your beaut... to your hair."

Tommy grinned at her. "My beautiful hair?"

"Uff. You know what I meant. Here, add more flour."

He did, then snuck his finger into the bowl, took a scrape, then tasted it. "Ooo, nice. All that rum."

"Have you greased the pudding bowl?"

He nodded. "As directed. Stop avoiding my question."

She glared at him. "Yes, you have beautiful hair. But you knew that already, pretty boy."

"Pretty boy?" He leant forward with his elbows on the bench and his chin in his hands.

"Hair, face... humph. Don't look at me like that."

His cheeks were hurting from grinning. "Like what?"

"Like a labrador puppy wanting his tummy tickled."

Tommy nearly fell off his stool. "Oh, Havers. You say the most romantic things."

""Romantic?" There was a look of panic in her eyes. "It wasn't supposed to be romantic."

"Shame. That's the at of the fruit, are you ready for the bowl?"

Eight hours later

"Time to take it out," Barbara announced.

Tommy stirred next to her. He had been dreaming about kissing her on the rug in front of the fire. "It wasn't in yet."

"What?"

He sat up. "Huh?"

"You said it wasn't in yet. What wasn't in?"

Tommy felt his ears tingle. "Nothing. I was asleep. I have no idea."

"Right, well, it's better if two people do it rather than one."

He smiled. "I couldn't agree more."

"How would you know?"

"I have an active imagination."

"Overactive more like it. Are you going to help or just sit there?"

Tommy stood and followed her to the kitchen. He stood on the other side of the bench, just in case she noticed his pants were tighter than they should be. She turned off the stove, then swivelled to look at him. "Some gentleman you are. You could at least lift it off the stove for me."

"Sure, but come here for a minute."

She tossed the tea towel across her shoulder and walked over. "What?"

"Thank you."

She frowned. "For what?"

"Being here. Sharing your traditions with me. For introducing me to Christmas rom coms."

"You fell asleep in the last one."

"I fell into contentment, that's different."

She looked down at the bench. "Yeah, it was nice watching them with someone."

"He took her hand. "Barbara..."

"Come on, we have to lift out the pudding."

Tommy rolled his eyes but obeyed. They lifted it onto the rack, then he washed the stockpot because it was too big for his dishwasher.

Barbara dried it. "Thank you again. I guess I should get going."

"Why?"

"We've finished the pudding."

"But we haven't finished all the rom coms."

"Boy meets girl, they fall in love, there are complications, they triumph over them and live happily ever after. They're pretty much the same story."

"What about the one where the aristocrat meets a woman who captivates him, she doesn't believe he could love her, he makes a huge hash of his life, and she saves him?"

Barbara rubbed her chin. "Jane Eyre? That's not exactly a rom-com, or Christmassy. Was it American or English?"

He grinned at her. "Definitely English."

"Mmm, there's one about a prince set at Christmas." She turned and walked into the family room. "I'm pretty sure that one is on your streaming service."

Barbara flicked through the menu and found the movie and pressed play. It was the only thing she could do to stop worrying about the implications of their chat. Had he really been suggesting they could live happily ever after?

Tommy added a log to the fire, then sat beside her. They watched the first 15 minutes in silence before he spoke. "This is really bad."

"Yeah, I know. It's short of tweeny rom-com sludge."

He laughed. "Perfect description." He picked up the remote and muted the television.

"Would you like me to go?"

He shook his head. "No, the opposite, Barbara. I never want you to leave."

"Oh."

"Oh? Is that all you can say?"

She nodded. "At the moment, yeah, it is. I... don't think I follow."

He took her hand. "Don't you? Can you honestly say that you have no idea that I love you?"

"You what?"

"I. Love. You. I'm not sure I can be any clearer."

"Ah, this is awkward."

He dropped her hand. 'I'm sorry, I thought... I thought it was reciprocal. I have made a fool of myself, haven't I?"

She shuffled closer to him. "No. Of course, I love you. It's just that... well... we can't, can we?"

"Can't what?"

"Change it. We can't change what we have. This isn't the Christmas Rom-Com in Belgravia. We can't guarantee that we would live happily ever after."

"No, but we can try. Surely that's better than being alone."

"But we're not alone, are we? We're here. We have something others don't."

He nodded. "We do."

"And pudding. We have pudding."

He put his hand on her cheek and stroked it with his thumb. Her eyes closed, and she groaned softly. "We could have more."

"But, if I don't make you happy then..."

"Oh, Barbara, how could you not make me happy?"

"Easily. I'm not good at... it."

"What?"

"Do I have to spell it out?"

"Yes, I'm confused."

She grunted. "S. E. X. I'm not good at it."

Tommy laughed and pulled her into his arms. "Because you're looking at it as a physical act, not an extension of your feelings."

"Maybe."

"What if we make a pact?"

"What sort?" She wriggled, but he held her firmly.

"You let me kiss you, and then whatever follows, follows. In the morning, if you think it as a mistake, we can come back to this point right here. Two friends watching Christmas rom-Coms."

She bit her bottom lip as she thought about it. A thousand thoughts flashed across her eyes so fast he couldn't read them all, so he gently stroked her arm and waited. When she moved, it was like lightning. Her weight forced him back on the seat. Whether intentional or not, her right leg slid over his thigh. As their lips touched, she pressed her entire body against him. Whoever had convinced her she was bad at this had been wrong.

Christmas Morning

Tommy stretched his limbs like a cat waking from a nap. Barbara put her arm over him and nestled closer. "It can't be morning yet."

"Why not, my love?"

"Because it's too early."

He glanced at the clock. "It's nearly eight. Mother will be here at eleven."

Barbara sat bolt upright. "We've got so much to do."

"Tommy pulled her back into his arms. 'Relax." He kissed her.

"That's not relaxing," she grumbled.

"Really? Have I lost my touch in only 3 weeks?"

"No, it is relaxing. Too relaxing." She whacked him on his arm as he nibbled behind her ear. "If you keep that up, we will miss Christmas altogether."

"Who cares."

Half an hour later, Barbara poked him in the ribs. "Get up before you have time to recover."

"You don't usually say that."

"We're not usually waiting for your mother."

Tommy sat up. "True. But I almost forgot. Here." He gave her a small box. "I tried to give you these three weeks ago, but... anyway, this is just a bit of fun. Your main present is..."

"You."

He laughed. "Yes, and something under the tree."

Barbara tugged at the ribbon and opened the box. She laughed. "Oh, how cute, thank you. "I will wear them today."

"I'm sure that'll make our children laugh in years to come. Mum, why are you wearing pudding earrings on your wedding day?"

"Children? I... okay, I will wear them for lunch and when we go to see Mum this afternoon. I will change them before tonight."

"Come here." He helped her put them on, then kissed her. "Here's to a good pudding. I love you, you know that, right?"

"Thank you. Yeah, and I love you too." She kissed him, then glanced at the clock. His mother could wait. "And here's to happy ever after."